


I should...

by SecretTimeIsHere



Series: I should... [1]
Category: Dreamtale - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Heart Break, Multi, Previous Abuse, Previous Depression, Previous mental abuse, Previous physical abuse, previous dehydration, previous hauntings, previous insantiy, previous killings, previous mass murder, previous murder, previous starvation, previous toxic relations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-01-05 12:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretTimeIsHere/pseuds/SecretTimeIsHere
Summary: [Alternatively: Yin's Yang]Nightmare is hurt after years of caring for Dream and his other not reciprocating it, how will he get out of the dumps and how will his Friends help him? What effect has this had on Dream?





	1. A pain like no other

**Author's Note:**

> Going to cut the pole a few days short since the majority was story and no one else is answering it. This is an idea for what series I should do, once all are up I’ll create a poll on which one I will continue/ do.[Extra note: see if you know when it references Outsiders ;) ]

  “I SHOULD HATE YOU!” A short but loud sob was torn out of the skeleton, all weakness is shown- but only _he_ knew it.

  Why is he telling him this? He _should’ve_ kept it under wraps, he _should’ve_ kept it to himself. He _should’ve_ kept it until they both died… but he didn’t. He couldn’t bare moving on, it hurt not being able to say but wanting to. It hurt with every bit of his being every time he was near the other, every time he saw the other, every time he thought of the other, every time he fought with the other.

  Why did this hurt so much?!

  “…b-but… I don’t- I should, but I can’t. I don’t want to hate you, I know I should! I did it for years- and then… those feelings came back.” A heavy sob started to let itself be known, but it was suppressed and only allowed to be a shallow but pain filled sigh. Why was he explaining?

  His body hurt, it always hurt. However, this was a new pain. More agonizing than he’d ever felt.

  Torn apart between two decisions and the possibilities behind each. Continue and let his heart out for ReaperTale’s Gods know what to happen, or stay quiet and let the other respond to what he’s been told already?

  “I can’t hate you… I care. I don’t know how or why… but I do, and it hurts.” Nightmare waited for a minute to gain his breathing back and look his equal in the face, “It hurts not knowing what to do, how to stop everything I’ve done- to get your trust again- to go back to normal- to confront you…”

  Why did he do this in front of everyone?! At least they didn’t intervene, they just stood there. Jaws practically hitting the floor, at least he thought that’s what was happening. He didn’t dare look back at his team, he was weak again… not physically but emotionally. He was their Boss, a king, the tuffest guy around.

  Now he was a weak broken child, not even tough- not anything. Just ready to be discarded and left to rot on the streets, kicked out of his own home.

  “Nightmare…” His soft gentle voice, the one that drove him crazy- the one he loved. The one he hoped he would hear more, just not the words he didn’t want.

  Stranded in limbo, loved back or left to die? Feeling the highest hopefull heaven and lowest fearful hell, he had nothing left. All relied on his balance- all was being put in Dream’s care.

  He hadn’t been aware of it but he was sitting on his knee’s, he had been the whole time. As soon as the first loud sobs came out his knee’s buckled and fell down, definitely bruising but not hurting their owner as he was numb to it.

  He was numb to the shocked faces around him, he was numb to all the voices around him, he was numb to Ink and Blue looking at Dream curiously, he was numb to Error’s glitching as he tried to hug the other for comfort. He was numb to everything except his own emotions, thoughts, and Dream.

  “I should Care for you…” He replied quietly, loud enough to be carried to Nightmare but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. His tone was careful, but then came down on his yin. Yang wasn’t as peaceful as the white was symbolized to be, “But I don’t… I know why, and I know how… and I hate you…

  “I hate knowing what to do, I hate what you’ve done, I hate how you had my trust, I hate how you talk as if nothing has happened and confront me… I hate how you blocked me out when I tried to help, and it hurt. It doesn’t anymore, I cared for you for years- and then these feelings first appeared. I should care- I did care, but now… now I hate you.”

  With a quick pop, the breaker and his trio left.

  He left him to die; left to drown in his wave of pain. Singled out and meant to hurt him. He would rather the beautiful joyful lie than this painful tear-inducing truth.

  He didn’t react when he was talked to, didn’t react when he was picked up and carried to his home, didn’t react to his friends around him, didn’t react to the comfort and hugs. Didn’t react to the food, didn’t react when his friends forcefully brought Dream back.

  “Let me go- …what the heck happened to him?” Dream pointed voice going monotone as soon as he saw Nightmare. To even sounding worried to his pale, thin, and obviously sick state in bed. Not worried about the dried tears upon the yin’s face, not worried to his eyelights gone- not shocked to see him uncorrupted.

  “Dream… please just do- something! …We’ve tried everything. We’ve even tried to force feed him… he refuses anything. It’s been a week… do something so he can live.” Error pleaded, looking directly into the other’s yellow pupils, letting go of the string’s that bound the other.

  “Fine- but I’m only agreeing because if he dies I die.”

  No even hastily Dream walked over to Nightmare, he was bed bound, looked as if another day and he would dust. His stomach growled below him every few minutes, pleading for the food that it could smell next to him.

  Still as if in a coma, Nightmare didn’t react to the positive aura next to him, not even when it came closer and sat on the bed near him. The bed was massive, and he was set in the middle, so massive in fact, he couldn’t see Dream sitting on the edge of the bed out of his peripheral.

  “Nightmare.” A reaction, eyelights back- light purple blush on his currently white cheekbone. Bright almost neon purple lights appear in his sockets, wide in surprise before shrinking in fear.

  Hesitantly he turned toward the other, fearing everything. He was so hurt, how could the person he loved do that? He was numb again, numb like that week ago, only he and Dream existed in that room.

  “Good, now Error, get me out of here- you’re all lucky I’m the guardian of positive feeling otherwise I would’ve dusted you already.” Dream got off the bed, hating being here every second he was near Nightmare. All about him from the disgusting aura he held to his self proclaimed title, and how he trapped his friend in stone for a hundred F-ing years.

  “D-dream-” he whimpered, voice choking on tears and hoarse.

  Shock filling the yellow’s eyes he looked back to the older, confusion and hatred mixed with undiscovered emotion, to complex for even a protector of emotion to describe.

  The sobs came back, dry from dehydration. He didn’t even let water pass through his teeth, his depressed state was clear in wanting nothing but Dream or Death.

  “Nightmare!” His team called in happiness as they shoved past Dream and practically tackled Nightmare, pilling on top of each other so they could all be close to Nightmare.

  The king looked at his crew and up to where Dream was, his half was gone.


	2. Falling deeper, yet Deeper

The first days were hard for everyone. The group struggled to get used to Nightmare being so small, and Nightmare struggled to stay in a good state of mind as well as day to day life.

 

With the corruption, Nightmare had been a good few inches taller than everyone in the group, being more intimidating and in general a looming figure over his enemies. However, in the present where he is no longer corrupted -due to him not taking in any negative emotion and the overwhelming care and positive emotions from his friends- he was smaller, nearly losing a quarter of his almost terrifying height that he owned before. The change had affected his friends as well.

 

None of his team had ever seen him so weak- so fragile. He positively hated the state he was in, the irony of his situation was already becoming too much as it was.

 

He was feared across the Multiverse, simply saying his name brought fear to the room. Now... Now he was just a short weakling, no matter how many times his friends told him he isn’t and that this was just a period of intermission, and that he would get over it- he couldn’t believe them.

 

When he looks at their eyes, seeing through to their souls and feeling their emotions, he no longer sees the joy and feels their crazed but somehow, relaxed energy. He can only feel their pity and care, and see how they look at him at a new angle; an angle where he is a fragile child- and not the strong and threatening wise man. They leave him alone for the most part, but they still have people check on him; as if he can’t care for or protect himself.

 

Sure, his bones may be the slightest bit more fragile when he’s passive than when he’s corrupted because the goop protected him- but that doesn’t mean he can’t protect himself. That he isn’t careful. That he’s a child that needs to be watched. Like he can’t care for himself and hasn’t been doing it by himself for centuries.

 

Truth be told, the almost constant surveillance annoyed him to no end. They tried their best to be subtle- but Nightmare had grown an instinct for these things. With how his life had turned out, he needed to have it. Otherwise, it would be a struggle to survive and keep him and his team alive, and he didn’t want that.

 

Although, today. The annoyance was his feelings. They were in the way. They were stopping him from being corrupted again, respected again, feared again.

 

He wasn’t as heartless as everyone assumed, but, there are some benefits to being feared. For example, when you’re feared, the fewer people that come into your life- the less abandon and leave you. Just like his other half had, even after he told him just how much he cared for him. He just hoped that his friends would notice, and not leave him like the rest.

 

“Night, are you okay?” Dust called from his spot on the couch, snapping Nightmare out of his thoughts.

 

He looked around with both his bright and enchanting eyes, trying to register where he was. They were in the living room, the movie that had presumably finished and on the home screen, the crew scattered about and close to the whole room was asleep; it was only him and Dust.

 

“Did you space out?” His friend pried, seeming concerned to what his friend had been thinking about so deeply that it got him in a trance. The King hesitantly nodded, “Need some time alone?”

 

Nightmare paused, shocked. Was his displeasure that noticeable? Apparently so.

 

“It was that noticeable?” The guardian questioned, unsure to whether it was the best response for his situation. He could’ve pretended that he wasn’t thinking off into space, he could’ve acted like he was just fine, he could’ve said something else- but someone noticed, and that’s what he wanted. That’s what he needed.

 

They trust their lives with him, he should be able to trust them in return.

 

Although, their trust in him to care for himself seemed to be dwindling.

 

“To me, at least.” Dust replies, quiet as not to disturb their sleeping friends. Was that meant to help Nightmare’s anxiety or only stifle it? “...Do you want to talk about what’s been bothering you…? We’re here for you if you need it, it’s the least we could do for you caring for us.”

 

Someone had noticed. At least they aren’t leaving him like the rest- yet. He could never be too sure. He could never be overconfident. He would always be as fearful as the ones that fear him, it’s the reason he was even living the way he was now.

 

Without fear, he would be sitting under a tree with his fellow guardian, keeping each other warm in the cold nights, and keeping cool int he hot heat- all while protecting the other, the tree, and the village they lived near. Close to all aspects of his life would be different then they were now. For example, he wouldn’t feel as alone, lost, and heartbroken as he did now.

 

He might even be happy and loved, living with Dream the way he used to fantasize and look back on. Although, he still did fantasize and look back on it, just now, instead he looks at as an impossible reality and timeline that could be no farther from the truth. Who would love a dark, killing, ruthless, and heartless king like him anyway?

 

All he needs to do is lose is soul, then he can be as soulless as Ink and finally not give a damn about-

 

“Night? Are you still there? Timeline to King.” Dust questioned, looking at Nightmare curiously, seeming worried but those emotions being hidden by his wonder of what in the underground was happening in his friends head.

 

That’s right, he was talking to someone.

 

“... yes, I am fine. I just… spaced out, I suppose.” Nightmare trailed off, reinstating his normal, cool and collected persona. He wasn’t anxiec, he wasn’t breaking on the inside, he wasn’t heartbroken, he couldn’t feel.

 

What was feeling? What were emotions? Those sounded annoying and useless, why are you asking him. It’s not like he knows what it’s like to feel. He’s heartless and practically soulless, he’s a cold king, how dare you ask a question and not fear him.

 

“... are you okay, Nightmare?” Dust pried once more, his worry starting to set in. He shouldn’t have used his formal tone, he rarely uses it around them- what was he thinking. He was so stupid, no wonder no one liked him. He was a stupid, heartless, and cold king.

 

“...I’m fine, Dust. Don’t worry so much.” Nightmare covered, going casual. Dust’s suspicion rose, “I’m going to bed- goodnight.” The king hurried, making a beeline for the hall that would eventually lead to his private quarters.

 

Running through the halls his soul pounded, but not because of the sprinting, because of the fear. The fear he had felt his whole life. How many times had he run this fast to get away from his previous abusers? Too many to count, it’s not like he could remember and figure out all the times anyway.

 

Shutting his door, he slowly slid down it, not sitting against it- but instead leaning his head onto the dark wood that was locked into place. Letting his shoulders fall, he finally felt secure. He was safe alone, he could show everything.

 

He could show his pain that no one understood the reason to, he could show his guilt, he showed his depressive state, he showed his self-hate, he showed all the negatives that had been trapped. Pity he couldn’t use only his negative state to grow back into corruption. The process would be just as painful as the first centuries ago, but it would be worth it, to be feared and left alone again.

 

He didn’t even care that he might be left be the few that still cared for him, good riddance! They were in the way, he could work so much faster alone, he could work for days without sleep, he wouldn’t have to feel those positive emotions he vowed to stop feeling ages ago. That he promised himself to stop ages ago but never did- because of them.

 

Why didn’t he just go truly emotionless like everyone wanted? It’s not like they really cared, it’s not like they were going to stay, it’s not like they weren’t going to leave him the first chance they got-

 

But… they rely on him, don’t they? He helped them. He nurtured them. He cared for them like no one would care for him. He knew how it felt to be outcasted, so he made sure they weren’t.

 

He was the reason Horror was still alive and not dead from starvation- along with his brother Scream, they were both alive because of him. Killer wasn’t crazy with the instinct to kill anymore because he stepped in and offered the tips he knew from coming back from his own insanity- even if Killer never knew the second part. Dust wasn’t melted by the sheer amount of LOVE he gained because of him, and he wasn’t being haunted by his toxic Papprus either. Cross wouldn’t be as happy as he is today without him, he was the reason the lost soul even smiled, the reason Chara didn’t bother him anymore.

 

He was part of the reason Error wasn’t as crazed anymore, he gave him all the help the others got. He gave him a home and love, he gave him help from the haunting voices in his head, he gave him help for the insanity, he gave him care just like the rest. They wouldn’t turn their back on him. Would they?

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Nightmare, are you in here?” Horror’s ruff voice asked; side effects from the dehydration that had plagued him along with the starvation long ago.

 

Nightmare looked up from his work, another plan to destroy and wreck and AU as per normal. Might as well work on plans for when he is corrupted again then wallow around in his pitiful emotions.

 

His friend’s vibrant red eye contrasting with his now dull purple, digging into his unusual soul and making it run laps, it spoke of knowing what was happening but not telling. It showed a world of suffering and understanding, a world of hope and care.

 

Horror’s worried and curious expression dropped to relief, he had found him. It was as if he feared Nightmare had gone away, both physically and spiritually.

 

He trudged over to in front of Nightmare’s desk and then walked around and behind it, standing next to Nightmare. They stared at the other, Horror still standing and Nightmare idle in his chair. The stare held understanding and consoling, as well as silent words. It was as if Horror was surveying how Nightmare was, whether he had grown thinner, whether he looked like he had taken care of himself, whether he was truly feeling anything. The eyes are the key to the soul, after all.

 

He carefully broke the staring contest and gingerly hugged the now small and fragile skeleton, he knew better than anyone to be careful when one has fragile bones or body.

 

“Horror… why are you hugging me?” Nightmare spoke, unsure as he always was these days. He could slip up his mask of stability any second.

 

“Drop the act, Night, you’re not ‘okay’ and we all know it. We don’t expect you to be either,” Nightmare stayed as calm as he could, if he didn’t act shocked like with Dust- he could play it off as just being more tired with a weaker body. “It’s easy to see that you’re going to break any second.” Horror continued, choosing not to look Nightmare in the eyes, he could see how Night felt when he was looked at.

 

He couldn’t blame him. He may not be a guardian of emotions, but it doesn’t mean he can’t read them. He can see all the anxiety that builds up every time he’s aware someone is looking at him and all of the emotion that’s released when they look away.

 

“I’m not sure about everyone else, but… I noticed. I know how it is, Night, you want people to notice- but you don’t know what to do afterward-” Nightmare shoved off Horror and got up from his chair.

 

“I’m going outside for a walk, I’ll be back sometime late. Don’t wait up for me.”

 

“It’s already sun-down, who would want to walk in the cold night?” Horror questioned, with how weak his current body was, he was sure to get a cold.

 

“The night is my true home, Horror. Very few pay attention to the true nature of the moon and it’s past, you should know that by now. Although, you may never know its past like I, and it’s highly possible only I will ever know the truth.”


	3. The past...

“You want to do  _ what _ ?” Cross asked, his tone harsh and questioning. This was one of Nightmare’s most personal things, they barely have his trust as it is, where in the multiverse would doing such a thing not be intrusive and distrustful?

 

“Just listen, you stopped me before I could explain,” Killer responded, not really answering the question. He could understand Cross’ uncertainty, he didn’t really want to do it either- but they were kind of out of options.

 

“Go on then,” Horror intervened before Cross could speak anymore, “Tell us why hurting Nightmare’s little trust in us and reading through his personal journals is our only option.”

 

“Yes. I know, we would be hurting his trust by doing it, but please, hear me out. Nightmare seems to be over Dream, it’s been a month since the incident, but he’s still depressed. It painful clear he is, even you, Horror, and Dust have seen just how depressed he is. In short, I think this wound is much deeper than just Dream.

 

“We won’t be able to get him to talk, we know that since you two-” Killer gestured to Horror and Dust, “-have already tried and got nothing but more questions. Although, we have one lead. Horror, you said he was talking about a moon’s past or something?”

 

“ ‘Very few pay attention to the true nature of the moon and it’s past’ ” Horror repeated, almost like he made sure to remember it by heart. “He also said something about the Night being his true home, and how only he will know the truth.” Horror continued, only giving more questions, but for one person, it gave some answers.

 

“That’s probably just Night being his cryptic self, Horror. It kind of easy if you break it down. Firstly, Nightmare has the moon symbol everywhere, and the moon only comes out at night, so he’s just speaking about himself in third person. We’ve seen his real nature, he’s helped and taken care of all of us when no one would, but he’s probably thinking about how cold attitude as of late.

 

“Although, the truth part is harder, but we all know Dream spread lies about Nightmare- or half-truths, so he’s most likely talking about how no one else ever knew his full story. He’s just giving a really overthought lead. We need to figure out his past before we can help him, We can’t get it from Dream, Nightmare isn’t cooperating, we only have the journals.” Killer concluded, seeming like he had this speech prepared beforehand.

 

Everyone stood still, trying to make up their minds, should they do this or not? But, if it was the only way to save Nightmare…

 

“Do you know where they are?” Dust genuinely asked, to which he got a quiet mumbled no.

 

Error sighed in the background, gesturing for everyone to follow him, before taking off from the room. Shouting behind him as he went, “You all are lucky I remember where they are.”

  
  


\-----

  
  


It had taken many turns and two flights of stairs, but they had made it. The room had been tucked away at the back of the mansion, only accessible through a decently hidden staircase in the vast library of the mansion, they really were lucky Error remembered, they would’ve never found it otherwise.

 

The room was shaped like a large octagon, holding dozens of bookshelves, and surely hundreds of journals and books. It looked mostly barren, and ridiculously old, even with the glass dome above giving off plenty of light. However, one thing did look to be recently used, the desk and the neatly lined utensils on it.

 

“So, where do we start?” Cross questioned, unsure if they should just start where ever or someone knew where the journals were.

 

“I think they’re somewhere over here,” Error called out from where he was standing, looking at the neat and numbered rows or supposed journals. The destroyer looked at one he seemed to recognize, and pulled it out, seeing a year written neatly in curvy lettering on the front. Definitely Night’s handwriting.

 

The year read 14, either age or the actual year, Error was unsure; but, Nightmare was only 500, so it had to age. He opened up to the front and saw what his mind could only think of as a matured teen, similar to how Nightmare was now, except, he wasn’t a teen anymore.

 

The first page read simply of Nightmare’s day, lightly written and seemingly erased several times; like he wasn’t sure of what to write. However, the final copy read:

 

Dear Journal,

I suppose, since Dream got me this as a gift, I’ll use it. I’m not entirely sure why he thought this was a good gift, but if me using it will make him happy, it’ll do. 

Today was more eventful than usual, for one, I wasn’t alone up in the tree that I guard. Dream and I had spent the day together, although, part of that was against my will. I couldn’t help but say yes to Dream’s pleading, a birthday isn’t much of a deal when you know that you’ll live to have hundreds more.

We had spent the day just relaxing together, I’m surprised he was able to get through the thick-headed villagers' minds that he wanted to be left alone today. They’re so dependent, can’t even last a day without their beloved guardian of Light. How dare their savior spend the day alone with that evil monster? They must think, but, they don’t know the half of it. Then again, not even Dream know’s the half of it, so I guess that it’s more than expected.

The moon has almost reached its height, I won’t be able to write much longer without getting caught by Dream, he’ll realize soon I’m not in bed, and instead outside. I may need to sacrifice writing in here so I can tend to my wounds.

Maybe again tomorrow Night,

Sincerely, Nightmare.

 

So They found the first one at least.

 

“What’s that one?” Killer asked, pulling out another journal, reading 21 on the cover, he smiled. 

 

He could at least hope Nightmare had one drunken story in there, considering how he doesn’t allow alcohol in the mansion. But then again, Nightmare can drink a full bottle of straight vodka a not get drunk, damn the negative goop and it not allowing them to see a drunk Nightmare! Although now that Nightmare isn't corrupted, they do have a chance…

 

“14, its the first one; But, it does have some very, very worrying mentions. Check out the last paragraph, ‘I may need to sacrifice writing in here so I can tend to my wounds’? I really hope we can figure out what caused his wounds, and it better not be an everyday occurrence.”

 

“You and me both.” Horror replied, just as worried as his friends. “We should all take some books and start reading, if he’s in his 500’s and there’s five of us, we can all take a century or so.” Everyone nodded to Horror’s idea, taking a few to start with, they may need to let Nightmare leave the house more.

  
  


\-----

  
  


“And- done.” Error huffed, closing the last journal he had, 114. Even though he was the last to finish, they somehow managed to do it before Nightmare got home that day. “Any main points or things sticking out?” Error asked, knowing that his section would be the only century that would really be of importance, even if it really was only a decade that held the important stuff.

 

“Generally, it’s just daily check-in’s.” Dust responded, “Here and there It’ll talk about things that tick him off and sometimes it’ll be things that make him happy. Like dark chocolate or how he loves spicy food. Before this I don’t know one of Night’s favorite food’s was freaking ghost peppers.” the skeleton slightly cringed, as if thinking about what it would be like to eat one of the hellfuly spicy fruits.

 

“Mine is mostly about us, actually,” Cross spoke up, opening to a passage in it, showing them a picture of all of them at what looked like one of their movie nights.

 

Cross had gotten the 414 to 500’s, meaning he had gotten some of the most emotional and sane logs out of them all, from how he got each of the boys and how happy he had become to even as late as the day before, speaking of what Nightmare really felt about his situation.

 

“Killer, Horror?” Error questioned, both of them getting more difficult logs. Killer having 115 to 214 and Horror having 215 to 314, Even in the depths of Nightmare’s previous insanity-which until now, no one had know Night had even had- he had written in the journals daily, giving them insight to the darkest pits of their friend's mind.

 

Although, their friend had admitted in one entry after he had finally come out of his insanity, that he regretted everything. That Nightmare had reread through every. Single. Journal; and each one, made him cringe more at his actions, and wish he had never eaten the apples or listen to the villagers' words or let the villagers hurt him.

 

“Not much, just talking about how the destroyed some universe, tortured another, let another suffer from half it’s world and people gone. It’s really scary honestly, the only sane things about it is when he comes out of insanity occasionaly and his handwriting.” Horror responded, Killer nodding along.

 

Error sighed, knowing he’d have to talk about his section next. This was going to be a hard talk.

 

“You thought you guys’ was bad, yours was nothing compared to this.” Error started, letting out a dark chuckle, knowing he really shouldn’t have read this. Although, they had to, in the end, “Nightmare, it turns out, was both mentally and physically abused by the village he used to live by, that’s why in the first entry he was talking about tending to wounds.

 

“That was one of the first days that had started to hurt him. He talked about sitting up alone in a tree because it was the only place he felt safe besides with Dream, it’s why he’s so skilled at climbing them now. I bet you Nightmare read his books today up in a tree.” Error mentioned, thinking aloud for a second, before going back to talking about his section, “He confessed that he had run away into the night often, sleeping outside in the cold or in dark caves. Dream being terrified something happened to him each time he came back from his tempory sleeping spots.

 

“It talks of him eating the apples, how he killed everyone and accidentally turned Dream to stone. How after some time, he returned to that stone and his crush was gone, how he found this mansion and took home in it.” Error swallowed, remembering the most heartbreaking part, “It even talks about his first encounter with Dream after the incident. How Dream had looked at him with pure fury in his eyes, and Nightmare could only look at him with pure love and care in his eyes- even after Dream attacked him.”

 

Truly, Night’s first one hundred or so years of life were very hard, emotional, physically and mentally abusive and relentless. It really made sense why Nightmare had problems, why this wound was deeper than Dream.

 

Nightmare doesn’t want to be left alone again.


	4. ...has been discovered

Nightmare walked, almost feeling happy, back from the forest behind his home. He had spent the day in an old oak tree, happily reading; he had even taken a nice relaxed nap up there. He felt rejuvenated and wanted to get back home to apologize for his out of character behavior.

 

Steadily, he walked in the moon’s light, not even noticing that the dome where his private study was had light coming from it. Although, when he did a double take and looked back again, the light was off, and the dome dark. Just his imagination.

 

Nightmare opened the door and was knocked down by four skeletons hugging him, taking the wind out of him and making a cracking sound when his fragile and ill-healed bones hit the concrete floor below him. Neverouslessly, Horror pulled everyone else off him, with some help with Error, and Horror took Nightmare away.

 

“May I ask what the surprise hug was for?” Nightmare questioned, emotion showing through, much more emotion than his friends had heard or seen in a while. 

 

Horror gave him a gentle hug in response, simply muffling in his ‘ear’ sorry, then the two of them away to the King’s room- hoping that would be a comfy enough place to talk. He let Nightmare sit on the covers and get comfortable before shyly explaining what they had done.

 

“I guess, I didn’t leave you all with much choice… did I? I’m… sorry for anything dark you had to read- that… wasn’t a proud time in my life. How did you even know where to find them? I thought I made it difficult enough to- and I made sure all of you were asleep before I ever wrote in any entry-” Nightmare started to ramble, but Horror stopped him.

 

“Killer remembered about them from when you first got us and apparently had seen you write in it on occasion. Error remembers it from when you first found him and remembers the location because you had brought him up there with you once a while back. But- That’s not what worry’s me, not right now, at least. The crack didn’t sound too good.” Horror explained, walking over to where Nightmare sat with some bandages and a medkit.

 

“You don’t need to see my old body, I can handle it, besides- it just a crack or two, nothing to worry about. Being toppled by 4 full grown skeleton’s can make that happen with an old body.” Nightmare assured, hoping it would be enough for Horror. He shouldn’t have to see how hurt he really is.

 

“Fine,” horror started, tone non-believing, but then turning to one of joy, “But- when you’re done, we’ve sent up some stuff in the living room. We even got your favorite foods and drinks. Just stay away from the alcohol, Killer want to see you drunk, and he knows you can be when you’re not corrupted. He was upset nothing happened on you 21.” Horror mentioned as he walked out of the room, snickering when Nightmare started scolding them on bringing alcohol to the mansion.

 

Night sat still afterward, knowing what he had to do next. Careful with his clothes, he got to the culprits of the noise earlier, several severally cracked ribs; all of which barely holding onto his body. Painfully slowly, he set them back in place, not wanting to alarm everyone else with his pained screams if he were to quickly snap them back in.

 

Not really bothering to tend to the rest of the injuries on his body- he wrapped the ribs careful in the magic bandages, mentally thanked the Multiverse for having magical-healing-like bandages and general magic healing aids, and then walked down to the living room.

 

As soon as he walked into the room, he couldn’t help but smile. Somehow -he didn’t even want to know how honestly- they had gotten a ghost pepper pizza, and everyone was daring each other to try it, although it seemed like it was starting to grow on Horror and Error. They had gotten what looked to be a dark chocolate cake and brownies, and even managed to get some alcohol as Horror had been ever so kind to mention and warn Nightmare about earlier.

 

They had even done a few other things that he didn’t even remember writing in his journals about, a giant royal blue colored blanket was folded and sat neatly on the armchair Nightmare usually sat at, there was grape sparkling cider waiting there for him too -probably from Horror, as the bottle beside it said it was non-alcoholic- and his favorite movie sat on the home screen of their TV.

 

They really were too nice.

 

“Night!” Cross yelled over the cake stuffed in his mouth, Nightmare let his smile reach ever father across his cheeks. “Come on, we’ve been waiting for you so we can start the movie! Hop over here and get some cake, or pizza- speaking of which, Horror hand me a slice!”

 

As reckless and carefree as always.

 

Carefully, the king walked over to his seat and wrapped himself in the blanket of his favorite color, taking his grape cider and grabbed the remote next to him to start the movie.

  
  


\-----

  
  


When had he fallen asleep? It was hard to tell, this body was so much weaker than his other one, even after a nap earlier that day he fell asleep during the movie. Perhaps, he wasn’t tired, he just felt safe enough to sleep for once.

 

He looked around the room, the cake and brownies were demolished, probably by Cross considering the chocolate crumbs around his mouth as he loudly snored. The pizza had been finished off by Horror and Error no doubt, considering no one else would touch it besides them and Night himself, and Night had only had two slices. Killer and Dust were in a drunken slumber cuddling with each other- so it was safe to say they had drunk all of the alcohol while Nightmare couldn’t stop them.

 

Scanning the room a little longer, everyone was asleep, except him and another.

 

“Error? Aren’t going to sleep like always?” Nightmare asked upon setting his bright almost flashlight-like eys on the destroyer. Of course, it wasn’t often the errored skeleton slept, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be sleeping more- or in general, taking care of himself more.

 

“I run on the AntiVoid’s time.” Was all he answered as he shrugged, starting again at his knitting, what looked to be a blanket of some kind.

 

“But the AntiVoid doesn’t have nighttime for you to sleep.” Nightmare protested, to which Error shrugged again, saying that if he didn’t run on the AntiVoid’s time he ran on his own.

 

Maybe a few weeks was one Error day? Who knew.

 

“Who’s gonna get that one?” Nightmare asked, knowing that most of the time when Error did knit, it was a gift to someone. Either a thank you or simply a gift in itself, if it wasn’t a doll or a piece of clothing for himself, it was a gift for one of the few friends he owned.

 

“Well that would ruin the surprise of who ever’s getting it, wouldn’t it?” Error answered, “... but if you really want to know, it’s for you. Heavy quilts and blankets help the sick and depressed sleep easier, something about the pressure of the blanket relaxing the breathing, I think.”

 

“So is it a gift or a thank you? I know how your present’s work Error.” Nightmare questioned further, it could be either one with what’s been happening lately.

 

Error sat still, almost like he was trying to decide which, but eventually he answered that it was a bit of both instead, shocking Nightmare a tad.

 

“Thank you for understanding us reading through your personal journals, and a gift, because you been so down lately- plus it seems like you need something physical to remind you we all care for and would never leave you.” Error explained, smiling a bit, something that was a rare occasion for the ever-scowling god. 

 

Nightmare sat somewhat stunned. Maybe, he wouldn’t be left alone this time.


	5. Under the layers

“Are you still sure you weren’t maybe just possibly a tiny little bit too harsh on Nightmare?” Blue asked for the utmost time that month, making the ever perfect guardian of light even angrier than the last time the swap sans had asked.

 

It was a normal day at their house in the doodle sphere, no one had slept in, they all ate their breakfast together, they checked on the Aus to make sure everything was well. All in all, it was an average day. Although, the average day seemed to be turning from peaceful to undeniably awkward and confusing. 

 

Dream ground his teeth again, he couldn’t put up with this much longer- but he had too, what couldn’t he do? This was a simple task, tolerating something annoying, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to do it.

 

“Blue, once again, you are too young to understand and know about what happened in the past.” The guardian of positivity repeated for possibly the hundredth time that month, wanting to just tune out blue at this point and go back to practicing his archery.

 

Blue sighed, he was starting to give up hope. He could try and argue his way into it, but with every different route and argument he took, he still ended at the same dead end. 

 

True, Blue nor Ink actually heard what Dream had said that day, in fact, probably no one else but the two guardians of emotions heard any of what the positive guardian said that day. However, that didn’t mean Blue hadn’t seen the reaction.

 

Nightmare was loud and clear with what he said, yelling it out in the destroyed Au, where only the two rival groups were. The way the cold and emotionless King looked that day couldn’t be forgotten, even by the goldfish memory of Ink; the facade that he always held up around his enemies had washed away, and they just saw a broken monster that wanted to be loved.

 

Blue could remember how tears slowly poured out of the King’s eye as the corruption slowly faded away, showing someone completely different than who they knew, a skeleton with pearly white bones that didn’t want to be feared- but instead appreciated. The only thing that even let them know it was still nightmare was the signature black hoodie and shorts, that and the fact they saw the transformation happen.

 

Nightmare’s single piercing blue eyelight had changed to two flowering dark purple ones, his tears were suddenly seen, practically shinning to stand out against the white the bones have become. The skeleton had poured his soul out, wanting another chance, willing to change in any way just to be loved back by the one he cared about for centuries. Although, that didn’t happen.

 

It wasn’t hard to miss how the cold king’s wide eyes went tiny, and the tears suddenly stopped, as if he was having a full reboot like Error. How suddenly he went so stiff, how his deep breathing chest abruptly stopped noticeably moving, how it looked like his will to live had vanished in the blink of an eye. There was no way that Dream wasn’t pushing it.

 

It was clear that Dream just rejected him, but he didn’t just do that- he broke Nightmare! Error had even taken him back to the dark guardian just so Nightmare could return from whatever haze he was in, Dream had even said so himself when he came back.

 

Blue still didn’t agree with Dream, he doesn’t need to know about the past to understand this! Besides, he’s not a baby-bones, he’s fought off the dark sans’ who knows how many times, he’s old enough to know whatever it is!

 

“Wouldn’t Ink be old enough then?” Blue honestly questioned, surely, Ink would be able to know then. Then, at least, Ink could get Dream to his senses, because Blue wasn’t able to anything with how  _ young _ he is.

 

“You are forgetting that Ink doesn’t seem to want to know-”

 

“I do,” Ink cut off, coming outside to where his two friends were talking, “I just haven’t asked yet, I’ve been waiting to see if one day you’ll stop tolerating this and snap instead.” The artist continued. To be fair, at the rate this was going, it seemed like that would happen any day now.

 

Dream gasped in surprise, letting the string off his bow go, missing his target by some distance. Painfully slowly, the positive guardian turned around, scowling at Ink, clearly not expecting Ink to interrupt him as he was too focused on tuning out Blue and trying to practice with his bow.

 

“If Blue’s really not old enough by your standards, then the two of us can talk about it alone- does that sound fair?” Ink asked, before trying to coax his friend instead “It’s the only way you’re going to get him to stop.”

 

Dream grumbled, walking back into the house after picking up his arrow and setting the bow and his quiver back, lowly growling to Ink let’s get this over with.

 

Blue, feeling the tension rising tenfold, hurriedly mentioned that they had some cookie dough left over from the last time they baked and that he could make some tea to go along with it; running off to do that. If it made him busy and left them alone, Ink supposed that worked.

 

Ink walked inside after Blue to find Dream, sitting stiffly on the couch, a tired and just done look in his bright sunflower yellow eyes. Choosing that it’d be better not to be next to the guardian when he snapped, the artist took a seat across from him, making sure the coffee table was between them so it’d be a hassle to get to him if suddenly a certain someone wanted to snap his neck in half.

 

“So…” Ink hesitantly started, “I have a feeling this is more than your hate for ...him.” There may be some trigger to saying Night’s name, it’d be better to dance around it for now. It may just make things easier to deal with- so they can pretend it’s someone else.

 

Dream’s expression visibly grew more pissed and tired.

 

“So what if it is? He’s a selfish narcissist that cares for no one but himself.” The positive guardian spoke, how voice low and quiet, almost like he didn’t want to hear himself admit it.

 

“Do you have any proof that he’s selfish, narcissistic, or cares for no one but himself? I mean; he must’ve cared for Error a lot to get the destroyer of worlds to kidnap someone to make him better. Caring for someone else doesn’t seem selfish or narcissistic to me- granted he is Nightmare, but the moment you rejected him, I saw someone else.”

 

“...That’s the old Nightmare, back when he wasn’t hurting everyone that stepped in his line of sight.” Dream spat out that last bit, but then chuckled, like he remembered something endearing. “Nightlight was so short, It was a bit weird seeing him like that again after centuries...” 

 

A small smile made its way onto the positive’s face, the first real one in some time.

 

“...can you tell me more about the old Nightmare? Uh… Nightlight?” Ink questioned, hoping that maybe this would help Dream some. The mentioned skeleton laughed further,

 

“Sure, I mainly remember him scaring me half to death when he left our little house at night. He’d go off and sleep outside instead, not sure why he preferred it over a perfectly fine bed… I don’t remember a lot about him other than that though. We mostly just sat in silence enjoying each other's company. Rarely we did anything other than that.”

 

Ink perked up hearing this, so not even Dream really know’s about Nightmare?

 

“I do remember one of his birthdays I made a dark chocolate cake for him and we had spent the day together, it was hard to convince people to leave us alone, but I managed it. That cake really wasn't that sweat; I hated it a lot actually, but me eating it made him so happy. One of the few smile’s I’ve ever seen on his face-” Dream stopped himself, seemingly realizing what he was saying, but not bothering with covering anymore. “One of the few smiles I've seen that wasn’t crazed, that is.” The Guardian corrected himself

 

Ink stood baffled, and Blue stood unmoving in the doorway, still holding a tray of tea and cups in his hands. Blue cleared his throat and walked in, set down the tea quickly, and then hurried back to the kitchen; either to get back to his cookies or to leave the room before Dream found out he had been there the whole time, it was hard to say.

 

“You sure you hate him, Dream?” Ink hesitantly asked, despite being soulless, he could still have some emotion- granted it being from colored paint. 

 

Ink had been taking some yellow, orange, and light blue lately because of the turn of events, expecting to have a talk like this sooner rather than later. Even if the empathy was fake, and more or less sympathy than anything, the emotion made it feel like he had gone through the same thing and be able to console his friend through it.

 

“I hate the Nightmare, I...” The positive guardian cut himself off, “...I love Nightlight.”

 

“So you admit not everything’s okay?” Ink asked, hoping to finally get through to his friend and help him- but the opposite happened instead.

 

“I’m the perfect guardian of positivity, why wouldn’t I be okay?” Dream repeated automatically, not even taking time to think about it; almost like it was programmed into him.

  
  


\-----

  
  


Dark night across the sky, the sky turning darker and dark as it grew deeper into the night. A dull yellow glow coming from each paper floating in the sky, looking like weird fireflies held still. The house in the doodle sphere sat quiet, it’s inhabitance asleep; except for one.

 

The artist sat in his room, staying up late against his better judgment to finish a new piece of art. Dull scratches filling the silence and calming the skeleton, finishing the line sketch and creating the visualized piece. Long trails of dark pen creating new sounds, filling the protector’s eardrums more. Sitting back after finished color and highlight, the drawing is done, but the silence didn’t ensue.

 

Ever faint crying and mumbles were coming through the walls, so quiet that they weren’t heard over the scatterbrain of thoughts and sounds of art being made.

 

Ink got up and walked out of his cluttered room, barely able to make it out to the hall without a noise, the sounds became slightly louder as they weren’t muffled by two sets of walls anymore. Walking down, they got even louder as he approached Dream’s room.

 

Quietly opening a door for once in his life, Ink saw the culprit of the issue.

 

Dream was crying somewhat softly in his sleep, spewing out apology after apology. From names he knew to ones he didn’t- but there seemed to be something under the surface. The perfect guardian stayed crying but had stopped talking in his sleep, instead opting to curl in on himself, as if a crushing weight was on him.

 

“I’m sorry Nightlight...” The perfect guardian apologized once more, hiccuping and crying all the way.

 

The weight was guilt.


	6. A door into the walls

“Shouldn’t have tried to get negativity from that Au without being able to properly protect myself.” Nightmare thought aloud as he trudged back to his bed in his room, wanting to sit down before starting the long healing process.

 

Not much earlier that day, Nightmare had left his home to try and get some negativity from the Aus, hoping that if he went to an especially negative one he could go back to his corrupted form faster; he was greatly mistaken. Instead, due to the violent tendencies of the Au, he got knocked out of his hiding place and attacked. Thankfully, because of his form, he wasn’t recognized by the inhabitance there.

 

A loud knock came at the door, Dust’s voice called out to ask if he was okay, the knob started to turn. Nightmare didn’t have time to react before Dust was in the room, seeing how hurt he was.

 

It may have been unnoticeable if it weren’t for his torn and bloody clothing, his snapped radius hanging limply and seen through the torn sleeve, and his broken ribs clearly viewed through the giant tears in the chest of his hoodie. This along with the usually dark navy blue cloth having tints of purple from the color his blood and the fabric color mixing, and some dark red blood and a bit of slightly transparent dust coming from his ribs, didn’t make it possible to talk himself out of this situation.

 

Nightmare turned his head to the side as he sat down on his bed, trying to hide the crack in his skull while he held his only intact arm to his chest, a weak attempt to cover the tears; which were still seen anyhow. He closed his eyes as well, not wanting to see the concerned and shocked expression on his close friend’s face.

 

“Night; why?” Dust asked, worried about how the king had gotten back so harmed and why he hadn’t asked or called for someone to help him, although, Nightmare didn’t think that.

 

There where many ways to end that sentence, w _hy was he stupid enough to think that the more negative energy the Au had the faster he would turn back into his corrupted form? Why he thought he could protect himself when he clearly couldn’t and barely had any magic in his passive form? Why he didn’t ask for help even though he obviously needs it? Why he was trying to hide even though Dust had already seen how hurt he is?_ There where a lot of why’s in this situation.

 

True, he was barely attacked and had enough energy to run away and make a few portals to get said attackers off his trail, but, since he was already injured and hadn’t bothered to tend to said injuries, they had done a lot more damage. Without his untreated wounds, he would’ve only had a few cracks and maybe a bruise on his skull, although, because of how frail his body was -due to it being hurt for so long- he got a lot worse.

 

It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, almost his whole body hurt- he was lucky they didn’t get to his legs; it was the only reason he was able to get away as soon as he did.

 

“...will you let us help you for once?” Dust asked after a long pause but got no response.

 

“Is Nightmare-” Cross asked as he walked into the room through the still open door, but stopped as he saw the condition his friend was in, just as shocked and concerned as Dust was.

 

The two of them turned to the intruder, Nightmare quickly turning back to hide the crack again, hoping the Cross hadn’t taken the few seconds he had shown the wound to see it. Dust mouthed to Cross to go get the others and medical supplies, and then turned back to Nightmare; trying to distract him from Cross slowly backing out of the room.

 

“You won’t be able to treat all your wounds alone.” He tried to coax but still got nothing.

 

A few minutes later, the rest of their friends had reached the room, bringing medical supplies with them. All having concern looks on their’s faces, with a tad of Determination, they were going to help Nightmare whether he liked it or not. They just hoped they had enough supplies to help his injuries, the definitely hadn't brought enough.

 

Cross hadn’t told them Night had been hurt _that_ bad, who knows what all lies underneath the jacket?

 

Nightmare turned back again and opened his eyes when he heard all the footsteps, they weren’t going to give up, were they?

 

“...fine. I’ll let you help me.” Nightmare broke down, taking off the hoodie so he could properly get to his wounds.

 

Once the hoodie was off, they could see the full extent of the past abuse- considering that only several of the many looked new. Chipped bones that looked like rocks had been thrown at it, some looking to be dented from punching and kicking, other’s were scorched and had an ashy color. Although, somehow through it all you could see pearly white bones like a newborn, similar to clear skin of a baby human. The wonders of keeping a body under negative goop for so long.

 

In fact, the goop had done a lot for him. It had held all of his body in place, allowing him to move without any pain. although, it also helped to keep all the wounds clean, and while holding it- make them not heal properly. Some bones that looked to be previous snapped were held back together at odd angles, and other’s not healed at all, it was a wonder how Nightmare hadn’t had any noticeable pain in the last months.

 

It was difficult to figure out where to start, but, the best thing to do was to snap the broken back in place, heal the chipped as well as cracked, and bandage the rest.

  


\-----

  


“...Night, would it be okay to ask how you got all those? Only a few of your wounds looked new.” Cross asked, his worry for Nightmare clear in his tone, voice, and the expression that he wore.

 

Some could be easily explained and passed by, by others would be harder, what good explanation could he have for scorch marks on his body? Or even dents in his bones- or the cracks and weirdly healed breaks- okay, maybe none of them could be explained away easily.

 

Cross wasn’t the only one who was thinking about that though, it was clear everyone had it on their minds. Even after they finished healing Nightmare and made him promise to take at least a week of bed rest -recommended by Horror- it was clear he was still in pain and hurting, but not physically.

 

The pain was emotional. He let the people he trusted most see him in his most vulnerable state, a hurt and practically mangled body that almost couldn’t be recognized as skeleton, it hurt his pride to have to give up and get help. It hurt him to have to see the marks and wounds again. It hurt to remember every event that caused them.

 

“I can’t keep this from you guys anymore, can I?” Nightmare questioned back before caving, he sighed as all his friends shook their heads, “They’re from… the village. Apparently, if you protect the dark apples you’re ultimate evil and therefore all intentions and every action you do is evil, anything thing bad that happens to you is deserved and karma for your ways…”

 

Silence followed the words, either because they had something to say but didn’t want to or they were unsure of what to say, Nightmare didn’t know. Although the King did know one thing, the room was tense.

 

Nightmare never wanted to remember that part of his life, hence why he never took care of the wounds, he didn’t even want to see things that were caused by them- he hated how they had treated him. He wasn’t even sentient in their minds, he was just an old toy, and Dream was the new one.

 

Their beloved savior- although Dream had been his too, just in a different way.

 

“Thanks for being open, Night,” Horror spoke up causing Nightmare to come back to reality and out of his thoughts. The skeleton flashed a genuine smile, “I think I speak for all of us when I say I know it’s hard for you to do.”

 

Horror gave a caring look to Night, happy. It truly was easier when you weren’t alone, the last time he tried to get Nightmare to open up, he only had gotten more questions.

 

“Yeah, Thanks Night, for trusting us that much.” Dust chimed in, to which everyone else started to as well.

 

Dust was also extremely happy they had gotten Nightmare to open up, last time, he only managed to dent the surface of the steel walls. Now, the steel walls had a door, and they were welcome inside.

 

“Oh and Night, please don’t forget we all care- ...” Error cut himself off, then started his sentence anew, “We all love you, Nightmare.” A blush formed on the destroyers face, to which the rest of the room followed, gaining blush’s of their own, except Nightmare, who was slightly confused.

 

Nightmare sat with his head cocked to the side, the killer came to sit by his side and sat next to him, giving the king a peck on the cheek. 

 

“We all love you, Nighty,” Killer repeated, making Nightmare’s blush finally appear.

 

The king stuttered a bit, unsure of what to do or say, never being in a situation where someone confessed or even liked him before. Although eventually he smiled, and just replied back that he loved them too.

 

They were going to stay.


	7. Weight lifted

“Um… Hey, Dream.” Ink hesitantly spoke to his friend as they relax in their home, both sitting in the living room but doing their own respective activities.

 

The room was tense, conflicting with Dream’s natural aura. Although, the anxious air seemed to hang around the positive guardian as of late and also seemed to infect any room the skeleton walked into, so considering that, calling the room such was more or less definitely hitting a bullseye.

 

Dream gave a short “Hm?” To show he was listening, but otherwise, didn’t look up from his book. It was hard to tell whether he really was enveloped in the book or simply using it to distract himself and make excuses. It made it even harder to tell whether the guardian was indeed alright or pretending his mental well-being as well.

 

“Uh-” Ink started, putting down the sketchbook he was drawing in on the coffee table and moved the hand that was holding it to scratch the back of his paint-stained skull in an awkward manner, “... I know it’s not  _ really _ my place to mention this- but. Why would you be saying countless apologies in your sleep and then end with a sorry to Nightmare?” The artist asked slowly, not wanting to sound rushed or anxious-despite his inability to feel such emotion.

 

Dream noticeably flinched hearing this -as if he was aware he did such things in sleep- but then let out a sigh and seemingly forcibly made himself relax, then spoke out a lowly, brushing off Ink’s question “You have such an imagination Ink, why would I say sorry to Nightmare? He hurts the innocent.”

 

“So you don’t deny saying sorry to others in your sleep?” Blue asked, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen, apron on and holding a clear mixing bowl in his hands, apparently making some pancakes or doughy treat of the sort.

 

Dream visibly flinched again, seemingly so invested in blocking Ink with his walls that he didn’t expect an attack from anyone or anywhere else. 

 

“Will you two ever stop this? I don’t feel sorry for Nightmare’a actions-” Dream firmly stated, but was cut off by Ink speaking up, saying they never said anything about him being sorry for the Dark king’s actions; making Dream speak up in a louder firmer tone  _ “I don’t feel sorry for Nightmare and never will!” _

 

The positive guardian finally set down his book, sending arrows of pure hate into Ink with his eyes, then lowered the glare and looked back at the book in his hands- acting like he was ashamed of raising his voice so much.

 

Dream then abruptly stood up, muttering that he was going to go get some fresh air and not to follow him. However, Blue wasn’t having anything of Dream’s temper, and pulled him back and sat him back down on the couch. Holding the positive skeleton close to his chest to prevent him from moving or leaving.

 

Dream squirmed for a bit, but then stopped, realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his short friend's ridiculous strength. The kid could easily pick up a boulder and not break a sweat while doing so it was pointless to try and get out of his grip, it really does make the guardian wonder what kind of training his Alphys put him through.

 

“Fine-” Dream firmly stated, giving up to his friends, and then said in a low voice like he hated to admit it, “...I- ...maybe I do feel sorry for Nightmare.”

 

Ink and Blue gave him confused looks, neither understanding how Dream could feel such a way; having heard little of the emotion powered guardians back story or relationship.

 

“Nightma- … Nightlight was abused when we were younger. Abused for simply being the guardian of negativity. They drove him insane- I didn’t even realize it until they all corned him in front of the tree- ...I didn’t make it in time and he ate the apples. He was crazed- just like he is now- and killed everyone!” Dream cried out, but not for the people that died, but for not being able to help his close childhood friend.

 

The day seemed to replay across Dream’s eye sockets. Dark sky, dark atmosphere, dead tree, dead people, one stone skeleton and one alive and insane. The once lively tree with blooming midnight purple and bright sun-like yellow apples turning quickly to rotting wood and orange leaves, leaving in the wind like birds heading south for winter. Although, these birds would never return.

 

“I didn’t make it in time and now every universe Nightmare takes is my fault. All because I was too naive and used by the village- I knew something was wrong! He wouldn’t talk to me! I gave him those journals in hopes he could get better and tell me why he was coming home with broken bones- but I wasn’t able to do anything-

 

“I couldn’t save him- I couldn’t save myself- I can’t even save the Aus- ...In the end, I hurt him more than anyone else. Besides-” Dream’s voice cracked as he spoke, going into a more joking tone, but it was clear that it was no joke, it was just giving a spotlight on his own expense. “Why would someone you hurt love you- Why would someone who hurt you and still hurts you love you?”

 

Dream’s voice rang in their non-existent ears, repeating in their minds, and burned into their memory- even Inks. But. The next sentence rang and hurt even more, even for the soulless body that was Ink, who couldn’t feel real empathy on his own if he tried.

 

“Why would anyone love a failure of a guardian?”


	8. A surprising conclusion

“Error.” Ink called out, not menacing in his tone- but not friendly either. The skeleton he called to looked at him, scowling at the recognized enemy.

“What do you want soulless bastard?” The destroyer shot back, sending his knitting back to his home and getting up into a battle stance, ready to fight his sworn enemy in a soul beat.

It had been a relaxed day in OuterTale, taking some downtime to calm his adrenalin so he could go to Nightmare’s later. He had destroyed some incomplete Aus- and despite them being smaller, it took a lot more work to do since the creator was working hard to keep it alive while he demolished everything. 

The little downtime between events is just what he needed to move his mind from focused and chaotic destruction to calm and bluntly happy with his partners. He couldn’t wait to get back home to all of them.

Thanks to their badgering, he no longer lives in the asylum that is the AntiVoid and instead has a plain and comforting pale room inside the mansion. Said room was perfect for him, a mansion is just right for him. He would never be able to get used to the cramped areas of a normal house- large and spacious rooms as well as halls with high ceilings is perfect as a start to having a real-life again.

“I want your help.” Ink replied, tone changing to slightly desperate. Error gave him a look in return, crossing his arms over his chest, “I need your help getting to Nightmare- Dream… He has some things he wants to say. As well as say sorry.” Ink explained hoping that if he shared why he needed help, Error might just do it.

“Well then… that makes this a bit awkward.” Error spoke up after a long pause, “Fine. I’m only doing this because it’ll make Night happy. Otherwise- I’d be serving you your ass on fine china.” Error explained before making a portal to the hideout.

 

\-----

 

“Nighty? Are you in here?” Error asked, peeking his head through the door of Nightmare’s room to see if the dark king was in there. Upon walking in the room, however, he saw that not only was Nightmare in the room but the rest of his lovers as well.

Nightmare was stuck in the middle of a cuddle pile, all of them watching a movie together in a heap of blankets and pillows on the floor. There was literally no other way to describe it, the dark king was truly stuck in the middle; From the back Cross was hugging him, killer and Dust were cuddling his sides and Horror had his head on Night’s lap- Error would be more envious if it weren’t for his haphephobia.

“Yeah? What is it?” Nightmare asked, turning his focus from the movie to Error.

“There’s a surprise for you outside.” Was all the destroyer said before heading out of the room, presumably going outside. Nightmare exchanged looks with his boyfriends before they all got up and ran to catch up with Error.

Upon getting outside, however, he learned he didn’t like his surprise.

Dream was there, yelling something or other on how “this wasn’t a good idea.” and “He won’t believe me.” as well as a few other things. Nightmare stood still, his expression constantly changing, acting similar to Ink’s eyes. One moment it was a face of absolute hatred and the next it’s contorted into confusion- and a minute later it’ll be happiness. It became a forever rolling dice, sometimes it’d land on sadness, sometimes it would be guilt, other times pure hate.

Once Dream had heard all the footsteps he had turned around from his friends and saw someone he had long both forgotten and remembered. Short little Nightlight, the one that looked like he could break like a porcelain doll if not treated correctly, the one that was so nice and adorable- the one he loved so dearly.

“N-Nightlight?” Dream stuttered, his once open and angry stance going shy and guilty. Nightmare’s expression finally settled, hatred and disgust.

“I don’t answer to that name anymore- and we both know it.” Nightmare scoffed, crossing his arms over his now fully healed chest defensively. Killer whispered something to the dark king, and his blush visibly appeared bright and purple. “Now’s not the time!” Nightmare exclaimed, turning to Killer and giving him an angry pout.

“Nighty- don’t be like that. Can you not handle the truth?~” Horror spoke up, giving a cocky smile.

“I swear- I will take away all the candy and chocolate from this house-” Nightmare yelled out, but then remembered that the star sans were there as well and turned back to Dream, muttering to Killer and Horror he was going to deal with them later. “What do you want- and why are you here?” Nightmare growled out, even more pissed off than before.

“...I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time-” Dream started

“I didn’t tell you.” Nightmare cut off

“I knew something was wrong-”

“The journals helped.”

“In the end, I hurt you the most-”

“I killed them all and imprisoned you in stone on accident.” Nightmare reminded

Their conversation seemed to be so short, but each sentence spoke books, reopened wounds and healed them; told a story that the two of them had unintentionally written in their history. Dream didn’t make it in time to save Nightmare, he remembers that and over his 500+ years of life, he still remembers and feels guilty for it.

Nightmare didn’t tell Dream what was going on and refused to tell and let the younger know of his abuse by the positive one's friends. Dream knew that something was wrong, but couldn’t get anything form Nightmare, so he got him the journals instead and let the writing serve as a therapy of sorts.

Becuase Dream wasn’t able to make it on time, didn’t realize anything was happening, and unintentionally turned his back on Nightmare, he hurt the one he cared about most. Nightmare in his blind insanity and rage killed his abusers, but just barely made it back into sanity long enough to not do any real damage to Dream, and instead only hold him in stone for one hundred years. Preventing any harm due to the magic barrier made by the spell.

“I hurt you even after everything-” Drema continued,

“You didn’t know anything even then.”

“I broke you down even after you gave your heart to me all because I couldn’t accept I still cared for you-”

“And I recovered and moved on.” Nightmare finished, letting Dust hug him for comfort; the skeleton having realized how much negativity was swirling around Nightmare and his aura. 

Negativity had been slowly dripping out of his right eyesocket, the goop starting to form around his body as it gained so much energy from his anger and Dream’s depressive state. The hug grounded the King and he relaxed, reminding himself that he didn’t need to hold up walls and protections and that this was just a silly confrontation. The aura around the Dark king settled and his arms dropped.

“Are you here for anything else than meaningless sorry’s and answers? This isn’t a perfect fairytale after all.”

Dream looked like he was about to fall down hearing that Nightmare had moved on but did his best to stand up and look fine.

“...Can we start over?” Dream asked, hopeful.

“I hope you know I expect you to earn back my trust-” Nightmare started, giving a snarl before his expression turned to a delicate smile, “but, other than that- I think that’d be nice to try.”

Dream shoulders finally slumped and he was able to actually stand, his face was bright with happiness; much like his aura was. Ink and Blue smiled behind him.

“Thank you, Nightmare.”

“Yeah, yeah, save me the sentiment. We had a movie on before you showed up and I’d like to finish it-” Nightmare got out of Dust’s hug and started back for the house, but when he realized no one was following, turned back around, “Are you coming?” he yelled out gesturing to both his boyfriends and the star sans’

 

\-----

 

As they all sat in the living room after finishing the movie, the two enemy groups talked on peaceful terms. Learning about one and other. Not for battle and sabotage, but to move on with their lives and settle a truce.

Dream discovers what exactly Nightmare meant by moving on, and became happy for his childhood friend for managing to find 5 boyfriends that each loves him even more than Dream ever did. Although, it was hard not to see that they were all lovers with the fact they all -aside from Error- were in a cuddle pile the whole time they settled the truce.

Nightmare learns how exactly Dream was able to confront him, and that all of this had been the work of mainly Ink and Blue- with a bit of help from Error. Although Ink had admitted the mastermind behind it all was really Blue, and he just helped in getting the ball to roll.

“So, first come first serve-” Error started clarifying their truce

“Unless the Au is neutral or an original.” Ink cut off, wanting to keep his rule in mind of the destroyer. “Neutral as in the aren’t on the Star sans’ side or the Dark sans’ side, and the original Au that created the branches and timeline.” Ink continued, reminding everyone of what each meant.

“No guarding either. If you want to stop us you’ll have to figure out our plans.” Nightmare warned, not wanting any puppy guarding happening. That was cheating if anything. They may be bad, but they still play by rules when they’re set down.

Sure they destroyed Aus- but there was no law or rule against it. Also, technically speaking, they could be considered clinically insane, but who was willing to risk there life to take the banes of the multiverse into an insane asylum that they’re sure to break out of?

“Is that it?” Blue asked, writing down everything neatly on paper that he planned to laminate and copy after he got everyone’s signatures. Everyone nodded in reply so Blue wrote down his name at the bottom and passed it to Dream who passed it on once he was done. This was official.

They all were adults -no matter how much Dream called Blue a kid, although Dream and Night could call anyone a kid considering their age- and they were going to settle this childish war between them once and for all. How hard could keeping a truce be anyways? It was sure to save them a lot of stress- and maybe even give them more free time.

All was going to be good and well, Nightmare was happy for once in his long depressed and insane life, Dream finally didn’t have to handle so much stress and weight on his chest, the bad guys were all together and happy, and Ink and blue had helped out their friend. Everything was sure to be rocky for a bit, but they’ll get the hang of it.


End file.
